


Temple of Doom

by lwm



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Based on Indiana Jones: Temple of Doom, F/M, Gen, Movie AU, post-gitf
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwm/pseuds/lwm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor receives a call from an old friend, Richard Harris, for help. Someone in Hong Konghas been predicting the future and with WWII looming, timelines are in danger. The Doctor, Rose, and Mickey agree to help, but Harris decides to make sure they can't run and takes the TARDIS to New Delhi as incentive. After barely escaping Kowloon, the trio should have had an easy flight, but instead find themselves crash-landing near a remote village in India where something sinister is underway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Temple of Doom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kelkat9](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelkat9/gifts).



> Special thanks to Callistawolf whose going to help make sure this story gets completed. Happy Birthday KK!

“Better hurry up, Willie. We’re going to be on soon.”

Sitting down in front of her vanity, Rose nodded her head at Ka-Ling Chow, a native Hong Kong beauty trying to break into the music industry. Not an easy task in Kowloon since most high-end clubs preferred western women as their lead singers.

“Do you want me to do your hair?”

“No, it’s okay. I was thinking of just doing a simple top bun. Will make it easier to put this thing in,” she sighed, waving a red and gold silk flower with crystal trimmings and feathers at Ka-Ling. It had been a gift from the mobster, Lao Che, to match his other present; a sequin dress with mandarin collar and short capped sleeves. He had demanded she wear both tonight.

Scowling, she tossed the gaudy hair piece away and picked up her brush. It was getting harder and harder for her to fob off Lao Che without blowing her cover and just punching him in the nose. Last night he had pinched her bottom so hard, she ended up with a small bruise.

Rose yanked the brush through her hair as thought back to how she, the Doctor, and Mickey had gotten into this mess.

~*~*~

With a startled gasp, Rose awoke to the shrill ringing of the TARDIS’s old rotary phone. Picking up her mobile on her nightstand, she noticed the time was 5:55am. She sighed as she flopped back onto her pillows determined to go back to sleep, until she heard the excited chipper of the Doctor’s voice.

Curious, she pushed her covers back and after a quick stretch, left her room to wonder down the halls to the console room.       

“Of course I’ll help. But if we need names, I’d like Indiana Jones. Already got a Smith onboard,” the Doctor muttered.  “Hmm…Whose ‘we’? My companions of course. I’ve got two of them at the moment.”

Rose felt her heart clench and suddenly decided she’d feel much more prepared to face the Doctor fully dressed.

_At the moment?_ she thought as she slunk away back to her room. Having met Sarah Jane, Rose came to realize that forever with the Doctor was nothing more than a fantasy. But she had still hoped that maybe they could have as close to it as possible. Then Madame Pompadour had happened and Rose suddenly had new found sense of sympathy for Captain Hook and his fear of a ticking clock. These days it felt like only a matter of time before the jaws of reality snapped shut and she found herself back in a shop.

Grabbing several items from her drawers, she headed to the bathroom in desperate need of a hot shower. Despite how much Mickey had teased her about her poor choice of boyfriends, which she was quick to remind him he’d been one, she and the Doctor had never said or discussed what they were aside from best mates.

Fond of a good flirt, Rose knew that sometimes actions and gestures could be misinterpreted, and she wondered if that was all it was; a simple misunderstanding. Although part of her hoped she was wrong and it had meant more, she wasn’t some foolish doe-eyed girl who believed in happily ever after. Or at least she wasn’t any more, thanks to Jimmy Stone.

The past few days the Doctor had only taken them to a few alien markets, mostly for spare parts but also as a reprieve from the terror of that 51st century spaceship. It had given her a chance to show Mickey some “proper” aliens and taste some of the strange local foods. It had also given Rose a chance to decide what she wanted to do with her future if the Doctor ever decided enough was enough.  

When she had gone to warn Reinette, Rose had been so stupefied by the Uncrowned Queen that she hadn’t realized how wrong Reinette had been when she said the Doctor was worth the monsters. _He_ was not, but the life she had amongst the stars was - with or without him by her side. And so she had begun to look at possible alternatives.

Jack had once claimed to be a Time Agent and although she didn’t approve of what they had done to him, they could be a means to an end. Unfortunately, the TARDIS didn’t have a lot of information on them, and she wasn’t sure the Doctor would be the best person to talk to, given his scorn for the Agency.

The water in her shower suddenly turned cold and Rose, looking down at her pink and slightly prune-y skin, realized she must have been in there close to half-an-hour.

Turning off the water, she quickly dried herself and put on her usual outfit; jeans and a t-shirt. With a yawn, she swiped on her mascara and then headed into her room and slipped on her trainers, before heading out the door.

She debated on stopping for a cup of tea along the way back to the console room, but as it always did, her curiosity won.

The Doctor looked up as Rose entered. “You’re up early. Not even seven.” His brow furrowed. “Trouble sleeping?”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I heard the phone. Bit rare that. Figured it might mean trouble.”

The Doctor hummed and pretended to flick a few switches. “An old friend, Richard ‘Dickey’ Harris,” he said with a fond smile. “He asked if I could pop round.” He looked up at her. “But you could have slept a little longer. He just needs me to verify an object, that’s all. No need to rush.”

Rose snorted. “With you as the pilot, it’s probably best we try to get there as soon as possible.”

“My driving’s not that bad.” Seeing Rose’s raised eyebrow, the Doctor tugged his ear. “Well, all right. I might make a few mistakes now and then.”

“From 1 to 100,” she said in a sing-song voice.

Indignant, the Doctor crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the console. “I got us back to Earth on time when Mr. Mickey called.”

“Only because mum threatened you if we were late for dinner.”

“Yes well,” – he absent-mindedly rubbed his cheek –“your mother is a powerful motivator. But since you’re up, we might as well get a head start.”

“I’ll go get Mickey. Wouldn’t want to leave him behind.”

“Yes, that’d be a terrible shame,” the Doctor said with a sarcastic drawl.

Rose bit the inside of her cheek. Sometimes she wanted to ask the Doctor why he had invited Mickey if he only ever complained about him. But she suspected she knew the answer, and it made her cheeks burn in embarrassment and anger.

Spinning on her heel, she was about to leave the Doctor to do his usual dance around the console, when he called after her, “Oh and, Rose, you may want to stop by the wardrobe room. Late 1930s, second floor up from the Victorians.”

She bobbed her head and then headed down the corridor to Mickey’s room.

~*~*~

Mickey had always been a heavy sleeper, and after her fifth knock, Rose entered his bedroom. The lights automatically raised and she was surprised to see what a mess he’d made.

_Only here a few days and already it looks like his place back home_ , Rose thought as she started to bend down to pick-up his clothes. She held his shirt in her hands and then dropped it, remembering she was no longer his girlfriend and this was not a job she had to do. It shouldn’t have been when they were together either, but she had grown up helping him and it was a hard habit to break.

“Mickey,” she whispered as she slowly approached him, “time to get up.” She reached for his shoulder and gently shook him. “Mickey, come on.” He groaned and snuggled deeper into his blankets.

Noticing a glass of water by his bed, she picked it up, dipped her finger in it, and then rubbed it in his ear.

“Ah! Rose!” he cried, shooting up and swatting her away. “What’d you do that for?”

“We’re going to be landing soon, 1930s. And we need clothes,” she said with a gleeful smile.

Mickey gave her a worried look. “You know my size, babe. Couldn’t you just go shopping for me?”

“Oh, we don’t have to go shopping,” she said, tugging his covers away from him.

Reluctantly, he got out of bed.  “We don’t?”

“Mickey Smith,” she said with a Cheshire cat grin, “it’s time you see the wardrobe room.”

 ~*~*~

Mickey whistled. “No wonder you don’t want to leave him,” he said as they started walking up the spiral staircase. “Where’d he get all these?”

Rose shrugged her shoulders. “I know some are from past companions. Sarah Jane told me about how she liked dressing up in Vicki or Victoria’s old gowns. But I think the TARDIS collects most of it. She’s a bit of kleptomaniac. Just like her driver,” she mumbled to herself.

“How can a ship collect things?”

Rose paused and looked at him over her shoulder. “When she lands, she can materialise around other objects and,” – she waved her hand in a vague gesture – “they sometimes end up staying on the TARDIS.”

“Huh. Thought they just might be from all the people he shagged.”

“Mickey,” she groaned, throwing back her head in exasperation.

“What? It’s pretty suspicious if you ask me.”

“He’s not Jack.”

Mickey snorted. “No, he’s not, ‘cause at least with Captain Cheesecake you’d know what you were getting into.” He tried to reach for her, but Rose quickly stepped away onto the second floor landing.

There were two arches on either side of her with the standard human symbols for men and women above them. “Looks like you go left and I go right.”

“Rose,” he called. She turned to look at him. “You know you can’t stay with him forever.”

“Can we please not have this conversation, _again_?”

“So you’re okay with him just leaving you behind?” he said, curling his lips.

She turned to walk to the women’s section. “Yes,” she replied, pressing her nails into the palms of her hands. “Of course I am.” Maybe if she said it often enough she’d believe it. Needed to believe it, especially since she thought she had finally figured out what the Doctor had been trying to tell her since Sarah Jane – they might be best mates, but even a best mate had to eventually go home.  

Stopping for a moment, she turned to look back at him. “But until that day, Mickey, let’s just enjoy ourselves, yeah?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she disappeared behind the arch.

~*~*~   

Rose’s options seemed to be limited to either wearing high-waisted wide leg trousers or various flowery dresses or calf-length skirts. Tapping her chin, she eyed a pair of light weight, pleated trousers.

She remembered reading Katherine Hepburn’s autobiography and how there had been some controversy over the actress preferring to wear men’s suits. With a mischievous smile, Rose picked up the navy trousers and a white, short sleeve jacket.

After a quick change, she stood in front of a mirror, titling her head from side to side. She knew from various black and white movies that the hairstyles tended to be either finger waves or barrel curls. But both styles would take a few hours to achieve, so Rose decided to just sleek her back into a tidy bun. She doubted it would cause any revolutions.

Slipping on a pair of t-strap pumps that reminded her of her grandmother’s old shoes, she fastened the buckles and then headed over to the men’s section.

“Mickey, you ready?” she called from the archway.

He stepped out in a pair of light brown oxford pants with red suspenders and a matching brown blazer over top a white button up. He was holding the ends of his silk tie, trying to figure out how to knot it.   

She swatted his hands away. “You were always useless at doing these.”

“Nah, not really,” he said with a mischievous smile. “Just liked having you close.”

Shaking her head, she laughed at his confession. “Git,” she said with a grin, giving a final tug on his tie, and then stepping back.

“Well? Whadda you think? Al Capone himself would be jealous, right?” he asked, spinning for her.

Rose hummed. “You’re just missing one thing.” She disappeared into the men’s section and came back with a fedora.

Mickey took it from her, placed it on his head, and then tried to give her a rakish smile.

Rolling her eyes, Rose looped her arm through his. “Come on, Capone, time to see where we’ve landed.”

~*~*~

“Finally,” the Doctor huffed. “Thought you two were just going to play dress-up all day.”

Rose looked at him with wide eyes. “We’re already here?”

“Yup,” he said, popping his ‘p’. “Been here for the past two minutes and twenty-seven seconds.”

“You don’t usually land that smooth. You sure we’re in the right place?”

“Rose Tyler, I’m offended. That’s the second time today too.”

“Can’t blame a girl for being amazed.”

“Amazed?” The Doctor preened, straightening his tie. “No I suppose not. Although after being in my presence for so long, I thought you’d be used it by now.”

Mickey snorted as Rose shook her head and said, “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Doctor. We still don’t know if you’ve landed in the right place.”

Bounding down the ramp to the doors, the Doctor pulled them open with a flourish. “Rose Tyler, Mickey Smith, welcome to Hong Kong, Kowloon, 1938.”

They walked pasted him into the bright light of the noon day sun. The air was hot and muggy with a salty tang. Mickey loosed his tie and Rose nicked his hat to use as a fan.  

They were on hill overlooking rows of roofs tightly pressed together. The buildings had a familiar Asian style that Rose had often seen in pictures; tall wooden pillars, decorative balconies, and huge red lanterns hanging from brackets, supporting large overhanging eaves.

Beyond the city to the north and the west was a chain of rugged mountains. Rose turned her head and saw the hill they were on descended sharply to a flat plain with more evenly spaced shops and houses that stretched out towards sparkling ocean blue waters. She followed the edge of the coast to a long fingered peninsula that had a tall tower and several airplane hangars spotted along its base.          

The Doctor walked up behind them shoving his empty hands into his trouser pockets.  “The Great Depression is in its ninth year, Hitler is Führer of Germany, and the Second Sino-Japanese War between the Chinese and Japanese is well underway.” He stopped beside Rose, only an inch of space between their shoulders. “But lucky for us, Hong Kong is a British colony and Japan doesn’t want to start a fight with them.” The Doctor tugged his ear. “Well, not yet anyway. So we’re still reasonably safe.”

“What do you mean reasonably safe?” Mickey asked sharply. “Are we going to get nuked?”

“Don’t be daft. I said it was 1938 not 1945. They haven’t even started work on the atomic bomb.”

Rose nodded her head towards the town below them. “Looks a bit cramped compared to the houses by the water.”

“Because that is Kowloon’s Walled City. Used to be a military fort until the British came. Now it’s a den for thieve; filled with brothels, casinos, and unlicensed dentists.” The Doctor waggled his eyebrows and bumped his shoulder into Rose’s, hoping for a smile, but she merely rolled her eyes.

“And we’re meeting Dickey, there?”

“Dickey?” Mickey chuckled as he let go of Rose and took off his blazer.  He handed it to her and began to roll up his sleeves.

“Short for Richard. But unless he gives you permission, it’ll be Mr. Harris to you two.”  

With a sneer, Mickey took his blazer back from Rose and hooked it over his shoulder. “Why? He some sort of posh toff?”

“No, _Rickey_ , because it’s disrespectful. He has to give you permission to use his first name, just like you have to give yours.”   

Having gotten used to playing referee, Rose quickly spoke up before either of them could get into another pointless squabble. “What’s so special about your Mr. Harris?”

“Dickey works for an organization called LONGBOW. Remember UNIT? I told you about them when we were being taken to 10 Downing Street.”

“Yeah, I remember,” she said with a wistful smile.

The Doctor clenched his jaw. He knows humans have a tendency to romanticize the past and he couldn’t help wonder if she still wished for old big ears. A small part of him hated how she could make him feel jealous of himself; hated it more that he was the one who might’ve place those doubts in her head.

 “Oh my god!” Mickey cried, startling both Rose and the Doctor. “I just remembered seeing a picture of a bloke in a velvet coat with ruffles. It had Doctor written in the caption, but I didn’t understand at the time. That was _you_?”

The Doctor arched an eyebrow. “Problem?”

“No, mate. None at all,” Mickey laughed.

“Anyway,” the Doctor said, rubbing his eye, “LONGBOW is UNITs predecessor. It was disbanded along with the League of Nations when it failed to help stop World War II. But after the war, Dickey revived it and became one of UNITs founders.”

Rose glanced at him. “So were here because?”

“Someone’s been predicting the future and quite accurately too, from the sounds of it.”

"Time Agent?”

“A local, from what Dickey said, which makes it all the more curious.” The Doctor plucked the hat from Rose’s hand and put it on his head.

“Hey, that’s mine!” cried Mickey.

“Actually, I think it belonged to Humphrey Bogart.”

“That’s not the point.”

The Doctor reached into his inside breast pocket. “If you want a hat so bad, here,” he said, tossing a scrunched up baseball cap at Mickey.

Rose groaned. “I don’t know how either of you can argue over a hat when it’s so bloody hot.” She took off her jacket and tied it around her waist. “Where are we meeting your friend?”

“At Yee Heung’s Tofu. It’s known for having the best sweet bean curd desserts. You’ll love it, Rose. So silky and smooth that it’ll slip right off your spoon.”

“Sounds delicious,” she said with a toothy smile.

The Doctor beamed back at her and he held out his arm. “Shall we?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Rose looped her arm around his and started down the hill with him.

Mickey jerked his hat on. “Don’t mind me. I’ll be right behind, like a good little tin dog,” he grumbled as he followed after the Doctor and Rose.

~*~*~

The Walled City was packed with people buying and selling a mix of fresh fruit and dried fish, silk purses and silver pocket watches, herbal medicines and jade statues. Rose eyed a stall of ornate paper folding fans with longing. There was barely enough room on the streets for a pulled-rickshaw to pass through, and the heat of the day combined with the heat of crowd was starting to get to her.

Outside the city, closer to the bay, the streets had been wider allowing room for cars like a MG K-type Magnette. Mickey had practically drooled when he saw the old sports car. The buildings had also been much nicer too, with fresh coats of paint gleaming in the sun and the stalls on the streets had rich colourful canvasses, shading their wares. The two places were only separated by a gate and yet they were as different as London’s East and West End. 

“This is the perfect place to find information, Rose,” the Doctor said, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her closer to him as he guided them through the crowds. “Secrets between Japan and Germany, the British and the Chinese – all of them are flowing through this city. Mainly because it has one of the largest harbours to the south and –” The heavy thunderous drone of a four engine plane passed overhead. “Kai Tak Airport. Only one runway, which means planes are constantly flying in and out almost every hour.”

“How can someone predict the future? It’s not some Chinese voodoo, is it?” Mickey asked as he stuffed his tie in his back pocket, and then undid the top three buttons of his shirt.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mickey.”

“Well how do you know?”

“Because in 900 years I have yet to find a magic trick or voodoo spell that doesn’t have a scientific explanation.”

“Doesn’t mean you’ve seen everything,” Mickey said with a childish pout.

Absentmindedly, the Doctor began to rub his fingers in small circles on Rose’s hip. “No, it doesn’t.”

“But there are people who can predict the future,” said Rose as she threaded her fingers through his, stilling his movements and allowing herself to think. “Like Gwyneth. She knew about Bad Wolf and about me.” She tried to move her hand but the Doctor tightened his grip.

“That’s because she grew up on an open rift; tends to make people a little more time sensitive. But there aren’t any rifts in Hong Kong.”

“Time sensitive,” Mickey scoffed.

“Mickey, your tie.”

“Wha?” He reached for his back pocket and felt a hand there. “Oi!” Keeping a hand on his tie, he spun around just in time to see a young child disappear into the crowds. “How did you –” he began to ask and then scowled when he saw the Doctor wink at him.  

“Told you this place is full of thieves. Best stick close, yeah?” The Doctor said, pulling Rose a little closer to his side. “Come on, we’re almost there.”

~*~*~

Yee Heung’s Tofu was long and narrow. The kitchen took up most of the left wall with a tall fridge towards the back that loudly hummed and gurgled. On the right was a long hard wooden bench with a few tables in front. There was only enough room between the store counter and the tables for one person to comfortably walk down.

The Doctor headed towards the back of the store and opened a door hidden beside the fridge. Behind the door was an old wooden staircase that went up into a brightly lit room.

Bending down at the bottom step, the Doctor began to unlace his converses. “It’s tradition to take off your shoes before entering someone’s house,” he whispered to Rose and Mickey.

They quickly followed his example and left their shoes on a small bamboo mat tucked behind the steps and then headed up the stairs.      

A deep voice like Jeremy Brett’s Sherlock Holmes greeted them, “Hello, Doctor.” A man in his late thirties with short brown hair and a hawkish nose stood up from small round table.

Like the restaurant below, the room was long and narrow with a paper screen hiding what Rose assumed was the bedroom at one end, and opened out to a balcony on the other side. Apart from the wooden table and two matching chairs, there was a beautifully carved wooden dresser with a mirror just above it.    

“Dickey,” the Doctor said with a fond smile as took off his hat and reached for the other man’s hand. “Good to see you again. How do you like the new face?”

“It will do, I suppose.” He looked the Doctor up and down. “No vegetables this time?”

“Celery doesn’t really go with this suit. And I had my fill of carrots. Well, carrot juice anyway. Nasty stuff that.”

With a hum, Harris shifted to look behind the Doctor at Mickey and then Rose. His sharp green eyes seemed to linger on her, making her nervously shift her feet. 

The Doctor noticed and his own gaze narrowed for a moment, before he gave Harris a wide, almost feral grin. “How rude of me. Dickey, these are my companions; Miss Rose Tyler and Mr. Mickey Smith. Rose, Mickey, allow me to introduce Mr. Richard Harris.” The Doctor causally moved in front of Rose, breaking Harris’s piercing gaze. “I believe you promised us some of that delish jelly bean curd dessert.” 

Looking at the Doctor with a raised eyebrow, Harris walked to the wall near the dresser and gently plucked a thin rope similar to sewing thread. A few seconds later, a soft jangle like a cat’s bell sounded. Rose looked up and noticed the small brass bell near the ceiling.

“Sorry I don’t have enough chairs. You’ll have to decide among yourselves who sits,” Harris said as he opened the top drawer of the dresser.

 Mickey was quick to grab a seat while the Doctor pulled back a chair for Rose.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she sat down.

“As I told you on the phone, Doctor, there’s a man named Lao Che, who’s been particularly lucky in predicting the future.” Harris tossed a folder across the table at the Doctor.

Resting a hand on the back of Rose’s chair, the Doctor leaned forward, catching a whiff of her orange blossom perfume as he opened the file. The scent was similar to marmalade and for a moment he felt an irrational need to lick her neck.

“You said it was because he had a certain book?” the Doctor asked as he looked at a black and white photo of an Asian man in in his early forties. He appeared to be mix of Chinese and Korean with high square cheekbones.

“Yes, we even managed to get a photo of it.”

Mickey huffed, “A book? That doesn’t make any sense.” 

“Depends on who wrote it,” muttered the Doctor as he quickly flipped through the pictures and then stopped with a low hiss. “Damn.”

“You recognize it?” Harris asked, placing his hands on the edge of the table and leaning across towards the Doctor.

“Unfortunately.” Before he could say anymore, they heard the door open and a young man with his head bowed quickly entered the room with a tray. He placed it on the table, and then turning to Harris, passed him a folded piece of paper before scurrying back downstairs.

“Oh good,” the Doctor said, rubbing his hands together, “dessert.” Grabbing a bowl and spoon, he placed it in front of Rose.  

She smiled up at him, but noticed his eyes kept straying to Harris. When he looked down at her again, he nodded his head at her dish and urged her to take a bite. “Trust me.” She always did.  

The dessert looked a little like an undercooked crème brûlée; pale white with an orange powder on top. The Doctor had said it was so smooth it would slide off her spoon, but she hadn’t realized how literal he’d been. The slightest wobble and bean curd would plop back down into her dish. Leaning close to the bowl, she finally managed to catch a bite and was surprised by how it tasted like a sweet rice pudding, but the texture was very different. The contrast between the rough powder and the smooth bean curd was so delightful she rolled it around her tongue humming in pleasure.

“If you’re done watching your _companion_ eat,” Harris said with a sarcastic drawl.

Rose blushed as she turned to look at the Doctor, who awkwardly straightened his tie and cleared his throat. “Yes, right, well, umm…”

“The book, Doctor?”

“Right the book. It belonged to Bernice Summerfield; used to travel with me when I was much shorter and walked around with an umbrella. I was always telling her off for keeping her journal with her. Knew something like this could happen,” he said, shaking his head. “Every time traveller knows keeping a journal of events is dangerous. Leave it in the wrong place, the wrong hands and it could cause chaos.” He looked at Harris. “How are you going to get it back?”

“Lucky for us, Lao isn’t interested in world domination. We have enough of those radicals running around,” he sighed, shoulders shagging. “No, for him, the world could burn so long as he’s got his diamonds. I’ve managed to set up a meeting with him in a week’s time. Of course, since none of my agents would be able to tell if the book he gave us was the real one…” he trailed off, looking expectantly at the Doctor.

“I knew this was going to end up with me going undercover. It always does with you. I hope you used the name I suggested.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Of course.”

“Me too,” Rose piped up quickly.

“And me,” Mickey joined, his dessert falling for the fourth time. “Damn.”

Harris chuckled. “I suspected as much.” He walked to the dresser and pulled out a large yellow envelope. “Lao likes to hold court at the Chin-Chin Club.” Seeing the Doctor’s furrowed brow, Harris was quick to reassure him, “Don’t worry it’s close to waterfront. Our boy has an image to maintain. Can’t been seen dealing with these lower class mongrels from the Wall.” He passed the envelope to the Doctor. “This has all the documents you’ll need, as well some cash and keys to a rather fine motor.”

“The Chin-Chin?” Mickey asked, scrunching his nose.

“They like to use British names for their classier nightclubs. This one even has a dress code.” Harris looked at the Doctor. “You’ll have to get a white dinner jacket.”

“I’m sure I have something on the TARDIS.” The Doctor noticed Harris twitch slightly at the mention of his ship. He raised his eyebrow, but otherwise held his tongue.

“Since – Miss Tyler was it?” Rose quickly nodded her head. “Since you wish to help as well, you can take the role of one of the clubs performers, Miss Willie Scott. I hope you can sing, my dear, otherwise I’ll have to find someone else.”

“Rose? Of course she can. Hear all the time when she’s in the shower.”

Mickey and Rose whipped their heads around to look at the Doctor. Both equally shocked for entirely different reasons.

“As for you, Doctor, you’ll be going as Doctor Henry Jones.”

“What? Henry? On the phone I told you Indiana.”

Harris’s eyes widened. “You were serious?”

“Of course.”

“But that was the dog’s name.”

“He was very loyal.”

“Dog?” Rose asked, looking at the Doctor.

He stood there, avoiding her gaze and tugging at his ear, hemming and hawing.

Harris shook his head at the Doctor’s reluctance. “We had a spot of bother in Egypt once. Lovely mutt there named Indiana helped saved us from a rather nasty snake pit. But I’m still not naming you after him.” He shook his head when he saw the Doctor about to protest. “It’s too late to change it now. Lao will be expecting a Doctor _Henry_ Jones.”

The Doctor crossed his arms and pouted.

“And what about me? Who am I supposed to be?” Mickey asked, excitedly.

“What’s your name again?”

“Mickey Smith, sir.”

“Then you’re Mickey Smith.”

“What? No fancy undercover name?”

“I already have a man on the inside, Wu Han.” Harris looked at Mickey with a furrowed brow. “And to be perfectly frank, I’m rather surprised the Doctor is travelling with a man. Always thought he liked to keep the ladies to himself.”

“Tell me about it, mate. Why just the other day –”

“Mickey, enough,” the Doctor snapped.

“What? Don’t want one of your old boys to know you were with the king’s mistress?”

“A king’s mistress, eh? Isn’t that a step down for you? Last time you were boasting about Cleopatra.”

“I –” He quickly turned to Rose. “It wasn’t like that.”

Harris narrowed his eyes. “Is there some sort of trouble between the two of you I should be worried about? This is a rather important operation and I can’t have it mucked up because of some lover’s tiff.”

Rose held up her hands. “Oh, I’m not the one you should worry about. It’s Casanova over here,” she said, pointing to the Doctor. “Tends to leap before he looks.”

“Is that so?” Harris said with a smirk. “Seems some traits follow you no matter what face you wear.”

“What? That’s not –”

“We ended up in that snake pit for a reason, Doctor.”

“Probably the same reason me and Rose got stuck on that spaceship.”

“I told you, I had to go,” the Doctor growled, frustrated with how Mickey kept bringing it up, acting like a child picking at a scab.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Whatever. It’s all in the past now.” She smiled at Harris. “Don’t worry, sir. Despite how it may look, we really are a great team.”

“That’s right! Like the three Musketeers.” The Doctor looked Mickey up and down. “Well, almost.”

“You and Mr. Smith will have to share a room, Doctor. And Miss Tyler will be staying at a boarding house not far from you.”

The Doctor’s hand tightened on the back of her chair. “Rose stays with me.”

“It will look suspicious if she’s in a flat with two men. Neither of whom she is married to. Think of her reputation.” Harris held up his hand to stop the Doctor from speaking. “For this to work, she must appear unattached.”

“I am not one of your soldiers to order around.”

“No, you’re not.” He paused, briefly. “But I have your ship.”

The Doctor went very still. “What?”

The tone of his voice had Rose instinctively reaching for one of his hands. But whether it was to offer comfort or to hold him back if he decided to try and punch Harris, she wasn’t sure.

“As soon as we saw that you had landed, we had your ship put on a cargo plane. LONGBOW isn’t the only organisation interested in alien artifacts and I can’t have it falling into the wrong hands, now can I?”

“Out of respect to our friendship, I am being very calm right now.” He slowly and carefully enunciated his next words, “Return the TARDIS to me.”

“I will. Once you arrive with the book in New Delhi.”

“No,” the Doctor snarled, leaning across the table, “you will take her off that plane and give her back to me now.”

“Sorry, old boy.” Harris seemed almost eerily calm, but for the slight shake in his hands. “The plane’s already left. The fact that it was so easy for us to take just proves how poor your protection was.”

“Radio them and have the plane turn around!” He shouted, thumping his fist against the table and rattling the dishes.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get her back once the mission is complete.”

He prowled around the table to stand in front of Harris. “You were always going to take her, weren’t you? All so you could force me to take this mission. Why?”

Harris raised his chin, his own eyes almost as dark and hard as the Doctor’s. “Because war is coming and I need a solider, not a flight risk.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “And I couldn’t take the chance that one of mine would learn something that would help the wrong side win.”

“And how do you know which is the wrong side?” demanded the Doctor.

“I don’t know. But at least if both sides are going into it blind, it’ll be a fair fight.”

“The Doctor’s your friend,” Rose snapped, unable to hide her own anger any longer.

“And earlier this week I had to kill a man who had Sunday lunch with my family since I was five,” Harris said through clenched teeth. “Forgive me if I find it difficult to trust anyone who doesn’t have the right incentive. But my duty must be greater than my personal feelings. Now can we get back to the matter of Lao Che and this book?”

Harris had always been good at playing chess and it seemed he’d found the perfect way to corner the Doctor in an absolute pin. Unable to see a solution that didn’t involve endangering the timelines, the Doctor’s shoulders sagged.

“Fine,” he rasped. He felt the tips of Rose’s fingers glide against the back of his hand and he quickly griped her, needing her hand in his to help ground him.

“Dickey ain’t just a nickname, is it?” Mickey sneered.

Harris ignored the taunt and quickly outlined his plan. The Doctor would meet with Lao Che at the end of the week to exchange a small bag of diamonds for the book. After which he, Rose, and Mickey would be put on a plane to New Delhi where Harris was holding the TARDIS.

But until then, the Doctor and Mickey would be given a car to spend most of their week getting to know the streets and the fastest routes to the airport. Meanwhile Rose and Harris’s agent, Wu Han, would keep tabs on Lao. LONGBOW wasn’t the only organization Lao had offered to sell the book to, and they needed to be sure it wasn’t sold before the Doctor got his hands on it.

“Miss Tyler, I don’t know what the morals are like from your time, but it might help if you tried to get _acquainted_ with Lao.”

“No,” the Doctor growled. “She’s not –”

Her chair screeched against the wooden floor as she quickly stood up. “SHE has her own voice, Doctor,” Rose said, leaning towards him, “and it works perfectly fine, thank you very much.”

“Rose, you can’t –”

“IF,” she said with a raised voice, “I’m close to him, I might pick up something we need to know, yeah?” She placed a hand on his arm and smiled at him. “Relax, Doctor, it’s not like I’m going to sleep with the bloke. Just flirt a little.”

“He’s dangerous!” The Doctor wanted to shake some sense into her or hug her and never let her go; anything to keep her by his side and away from Lao Che’s grubby little hands.    

“I’ll have Wu Han to help me if anything goes wrong. Beside it’ll only be for a week.” It was on the tip of her tongue to remind him that he’d been prepared to have them separated for much longer than that, but she was trying to move past France; even if it did still make her breath catch and her heart ache.

“I promised Jackie to keep you safe,” he said, falling back on the one person he knew might sway her.

“No, you promised you’d always bring me home and we need the TARDIS for that.”

“If you’re done with your little domestic,” Harris interrupted with a bored drawl, “I have to be off to New Delhi to see the Marquess of Linlithgow. He’s been having a rough time with those nationalists. Damn business could have done with years ago if the Earl of Willingdon hadn’t arrested that Ghandi fellow.” He sighed in the same manner as an overwrought parent. “It’s only a matter of time before they force us to give her up.” 

The Doctor scoffed. “If you’re trying to make us feel sympathetic for you, that’s really not the way to go about it.”

Harris bowed his head. “I’m sorry it came down to this, Doctor. But I promise I’ll take good care of your ship. And in the meantime, Wu Han will help you with anything you might need.” He gathered all the photographs together. “Maybe one day in the future I can make it up to you.” Just as he was about to put the files away, he turned and looked at the Doctor, his eyes narrowing. “Or perhaps I already have.”

The Doctor merely huffed and turned to Rose and Mickey. “Come on, looks like we’re going to have to go shopping.”

~*~*~

Unfortunately when they reached the bottom of the stairs, Wu Han, who had been the one to bring them the tray of desserts, was waiting to take Rose away.

The Doctor stood in front of her, lips pulled back in a snarl. “I’m sorry, sir,” Wu said in a calm quite voice. “But if any of Lao Che’s men see you with her, it could put the young lady in danger.”

It didn’t take a genius to see the Doctor was about to explode. Thinking quickly, Rose reached in to her jacket pocket and fished out her phone. “Mickey, do you have yours?” she asked, waving her mobile at him.

“Yeah, I think.” He started patting himself down and then reached into his trouser pocket. “Here it is.”

She spun the Doctor around to face her. “There you go, Doctor. I’ll make sure to call you every night. So don’t worry so much, yeah?”

“Rose that’s not –”

“I know, I know,” she said with a flick of her hand. “It’s ‘cause you’re going to have to spend a week with Mickey.” She ignored Mickey’s indignant ‘Oi’ and grabbed the Doctor’s hands. “But he’s not so bad. Just make sure he doesn’t have too many pickled onions.”

“I’m not a bloody pet.”

Rose turned her head to look at him. “No, but you do tend to get a little gassy.” Mickey blushed. “Besides, you’re going to have to look after him too, Mickey. He can be a right pain in the arse if he has to stay still for too long.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Mickey huffed.

The Doctor cupped her cheek and turned her head back to him. “You don’t have to do this. Any of it.”

“I know.” She gently pulled his hand away and smiled up at him. “But it’s kind of exciting. I mean, we never have a plan. There’s something thrilling about it, don’t you think?”

The Doctor shook his head with a small breathy laugh. “Promise me you’ll stay safe.”

“I promise,” she said, adjusting his tie. “But I’m sure you won’t even notice I’m gone. You and Mickey will be too busy getting up to your own mischief. Just don’t go inventing any more drinks out of order, yeah? Who knows what chaos you caused with that banana daiquiri.” She couldn’t help getting that last dig in; needing something to remind her that they’d been separated before, and to bolster her courage with just a little bit of anger. 

The Doctor quirked an eyebrow, lips drawn tight. Rose had never been easy to read. Oh she was perfectly willing to show her excitement or enthusiasm, even her anger when necessary. But if she was hurt or unhappy, she’d keep it closely guarded behind sweet smiles or harsh words; anything to distract from what was really troubling her. She was almost as good as him.  

“We’re hardly going to party, Rose,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair in vexation. It seemed they were going to have to talk about France after all. But now was not the place.

At least, he thought, he’d have a week to prepare. Although he half hoped that the time apart might solve the problem by itself and he could avoid it all together.

Rose hummed in reply, her attention slipping to the ticking clock behind the kitchen counter. “I better be off then. See ya,” she said with a little wave as she turned to leave.   

The Doctor swung her around and suddenly she was enwrapped in a heady mix of the scents of bergamot and amber. “Good luck,” he mumbled against her hair, before reluctantly letting her go.

“You, too. Both of you,” she said, glancing at Mickey, and then disappeared into the crowds of the Walled City with Wu Han by her side.

~*~*~

Pandemonium greeted Rose on her first day of work. The lead singer and her understudy had conveniently lost their voices the night before and there was a scramble to find a new star. And although there were several ladies who could have filled the role, they were all told they either weren’t blonde enough or have the right curves.

The club had soft grey walls, low white lights, and large floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows. There were three tiers for seating which formed in a semi-circle around a low floor stage where a most of the performers were gathered arguing with a man standing beside a human size gong. Recognizing the tall skinny man with thinning hair as the stage manager, Rose went to introduce herself as one of the new back-up singers.

“Hello, I’m Willie Scott. The –” She had reached out a hand to shake his, but instead the manager grabber her breasts and pushed them together.  “Oi!” she cried, slapping his hands away.  

“They will have to do, I suppose,” he said with a sigh. “I hope you’re a quick study.” He handed her a music sheet and then disappeared calling after someone to find her a dress.  Harris, it seemed, had ensured she had a prominent role.  

With only an afternoon to rehearse, her opening night hadn’t been particularly brilliant. But fortunately, a minor misstep that had her bumping into Lao Che’s table had worked as a suitable introduction. He had mistakenly assumed it was her way of trying to get his attention and who was she to correct him?  

When one of his men came to ask her to the table, she immediately went with him.

“No, no, no,” Lao said as she walked towards his table. “In all the movies I have seen, you women are supposed to make the man wait. It is part of your game.”

“Our game?” Rose asked, slightly amused.

“To lure a man into your traps.”

“Is it? Well perhaps you should take to me see one of these films, so I can learn how to _behave_ ,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes. “But it will have to be a matinée. I’d hate to miss work you understand.”

“What about a late night showing?” he asked, gaze drifting down to her breasts.

“And risk my reputation? I don’t think so.”

“I could make it worth your while.”

Rose snorted. “So could a lot of men. You’re going to have to prove you’re worth it first,” she said raising her eyebrow.  

For a moment, Lao stared at her with a narrow, judging gaze before breaking out into laughter. “I like you. You have a fire in you, like Mae West.” He patted the chair beside him and Rose slid onto the seat.

~*~*~

And she’d been sliding into that spot every night for the past six days, watching and learning the faces of the German and Japanese informants. She’d peeked through the curtains earlier and noticed quite a number of them had turned up. They had obviously learned that exchange was going to happen tonight and were lying in wait for their chance to snatch the book from the Doctor.      

“Willie? We’re on,” called Ka-Ling.

Rose looked at herself in the body length mirror, sweeping her hands down her sparkling red and gold dress. “Show time,” she murmured, slipping on a pair of matching gloves.

~*~*~

Mickey pulled the car up to the curb and turned off the engine. He hated that he was once again being forced to stay behind like a good little tin dog. But the club didn’t allow for coloured people unless they were willing to pay a hefty price. He looked at the Doctor in his rear-view mirror.

“Good luck, Boss.”

The Doctor nodded his head and got out of the car, straightening his cufflinks. For nearly a week he’d only had brief phone calls from Rose, consisting of nothing more than a quick “I’m all right” before she rang off. It had been frustrating, to say the least, and Mickey hadn’t helped much with incessant doom and gloom hypothesising. Then there was time he’d caught Rose looking slightly frazzled, leaving the cinema with Lao Che. Wu Han had caught him that time and had to warn him away. But the Doctor pointed out that he need to learned the escape routes and if he happened to see Rose around the Chin-Chin, well, that was hardly his fault.

Walking up the stairs, he checked the inside of his dinner jacket for the hundredth time. Normally, he wasn’t this nervous going into these sorts of adventures with Rose, but then normally, he’d have the TARDIS med-bay on standby.  

A deep clangorous gong sounded as the Doctor stepped into the club. From his spot on the top tier, he watched Rose on to the low stage, singing Anything Goes by Cole Porter. For a moment he forgot himself and just enjoyed her as she sashay across the dance floor. He’d only ever heard the echo-y sound of her voice from the shower stall as it filtered into the console room. The TARDIS had developed a peculiar habit of humming along with Rose, especially it seemed, when she was singing Lily Allen.

Rose suddenly shimmed her hips, raising her hands above her head, tongue between her teeth. The Doctor tugged at his bowtie, feeling a touch warm as he watched the way the light bounced off the sequins of her dress.      

Wu Han came up behind him and cleared his throat. “I believe the table you want, sir, is over there,” he said, nodding his head to a round table with five somber-looking Chinese men seated in a semi-circle facing the stage.

“Suppose there’s no going back, is there?”

“Don’t worry,” – Wu briefly revealed the gun he was holding under his tray – “I’ll protect you and the lady.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” muttered the Doctor as he made his way down the steps to Lao Che.

When he passed Rose on the stage, he had to resist giving her smile and wave. “Lao Che,” the Doctor said, bowing his head slightly.

“Ah, Doctor Henry Jones?” Lao asked, looking him up and down. “ _He looks like a wet puppy,_ ” he said in Cantonese to his men, who laughed at the insult.

“ _A puppy who knows how to bite,_ ” the Doctor replied in kind.

Lao’s men quickly snapped their mouths shut and glowered at the Doctor. “Your Cantonese is quite impressive.”

“Thanks,” the Doctor preened. “Languages have always been a speciality of mine.”    

Lao gave him a small condescending smile. “Please, sit.”

The Doctor pulled back the chair and took a seat, annoyed that his back was to Rose.

“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering you a glass of champagne and some caviar,” Lao said, spinning around the small rotating tray in the middle of the table.

“Never been one for fish eggs, but thanks for the glass.” The Doctor took the champagne and spun the caviar back to Lao. 

Lao looked annoyed at the dish and the Doctor wondered if something had been added to it. _Glad I dodged that bullet_ , he thought to himself.

“One of your men tried to take the book last night,” Lao said, breaking the Doctor from his reverie.

“Wasn’t one of mine. Probably a German or a Jap.” He placed his elbow on the table and leaned in. “How many are you trying to sell this to again?”

“Are you accusing me of something, Doctor Jones?”

One of Lao’s men to the Doctor’s right curled his lips, snarling at him.

“Just the Doctor thanks,” he said as he reclined back into chair. “And no. I’d like to think you’d deal in good faith, but greed can be powerful thing.”

“Indeed.”

The song ended and Lao and the Doctor paused to clapped, the Doctor perhaps a little more enthusiastically then was necessary.

“The diamonds, Doctor?”

He pulled out a velvet bag, opened it and poured some of the gems onto the tray, spinning it towards Lao. A twitchy fellow to Lao’s left took out a loupe to examine the jewels and when he was satisfied with their clarity, nodded his head at Lao.

Rose strolled up to the table and leaned down to kiss Lao on the cheek. “Evening, Lao. Who’s your friend?” she asked, glancing at the Doctor, whose smile seemed a little tense.

“Willie Scott, this is Doctor Henry Jones an –”

“Archaeologist,” the Doctor supplied.

Rose took a seat beside the Doctor. “I thought archaeologists were all little men looking for their mommies,” she said, with a teasing grin.

“It’s Mummies,” the Doctor corrected, looking at her as if she’d just dribbled on her shirt.

With a harrumph, she turned in her seat towards Lao and noticed the diamonds on the tray. “Ooh, those are pretty.”

“And not for you, love.” The Doctor saw Rose’s cheeks flush before he looked back at Lao. He half wondered if it was because of his slip or if she was really that good of an actress. Part of him was tempted to call her love again just to see what she’d do. The Doctor smiled at Lao. “The book?”

Lao took out a small leather bound book, placed it on the tray, and rolled it to him.

Glancing at the cover, the Doctor smiled at the mobster. “The real one, Lao, if you please.”

“How do you know this isn’t the real one?”

“I know,” he said, eyes turning unnaturally dark as his lips curled into a feral grin.

Lao straightened his shoulders, eyes widening just a fraction in fear. He nodded his head to one of his men who took out the real book and passed it the Doctor, and then he in turn handed over the rest of the diamonds.

“You really believe that book tells the future, Doctor?"

"It doesn't matter what I believe." He put the book inside his jacket and picked up the glass of champagne. "Gentlemen, it was a pleasure doing business with you," he said, downing his glass.

Lao smiled. "I've changed my mind, Doctor. I want the book back."

"A little late for that, Lao," he said with a frown.

"Oh I don't think so." Lao pulled out a snuff box and put it on the tray, spinning it around. The Doctor opened it and saw a white powder inside. "It’s poison, Doctor, and you’ve just drunk it," Lao said with a cruel smile as he took out a blue vial. "This is the antidote."

"Why sell the book if you just wanted to keep it?" the Doctor growled. He could already feel the effects of the poison. His temperature had risen by one degree and his hands trembled slightly. Closing his eyes, he tried to metabolise the poison but it seemed to be affecting his enzymes. The best he could do was slow down the affects until he got the antidote. 

"Like you said, Doctor, greed is a powerful thing and it's amazing what people will pay to know their future. But it looks like yours is running out." Lao held out his hand. "The book, Doctor."

The Doctor grabbed a knife off the table and pulled Rose, who’d been using her compact mirror to keep an eye on a German behind them, onto his lap. “Hey, watch it!”

“Give me the antidote or your girlfriend here is going to be squealing out a new tune.”

“I don’t squeal! Ow!” she cried as the Doctor poked her with the knife. “Lao, he’s making a hole in my dress.”

“Keep the girl. She’s nothing more than a tease.”

Rose scoffed. “Or maybe I just know when a guy’s not a sure thing,” she said, waggling her pinky at him.

One of Lao’s men thumped the table with his fist and growled at her.

“Fine,” the Doctor grudgingly agreed as he shoved Rose off him and reached into his jacket pocket.

Lao placed the antidote on the tray and the Doctor paused, quickly going through several alternative scenarios in his head.

“Don’t be a fool, Doctor,” Lao said.

Several champagne bottles suddenly popped open and the man to Lao’s right fell forward, pushing the tray and the antidote off the table.

“No!” cried Lao, shoving the table over in his anger and grief, knocking the Doctor to the floor.    

Rose quickly yanked him up as Lao’s men reached for their guns. “That was his son, Kao Kan,” she told him as they scrambled away. They shoved another table over and hide behind it just as the bullets started flying.

The crack of the guns caused the room of people to stampede. Chairs and tables were pushed away as people crashed into each other, blindly trying to find safety.      

 “I need that antidote, Rose,” the Doctor gasped, sweat dripping down his face.

“What can’t you just –” She waved her hands at him.

“Can’t, it’s inhibiting my enzymes. I’d have to stimulate them into reversal, but I don’t have time to find all the right ingredients.” He looked at her with a weak smile. “Unless you happen to have some ginger beer handy.”

“Okay, okay.” She peeked over the top of the table. “Think I saw the vial fly off in that direction,” she said, looking towards the windows and then patted him on the shoulder. “Try and stay out of sight, yeah?”

“Rose,” he called, but it was too late she’d already jumped into the chaos. A bullet shot went whizzing over his head. “Bugger.”

The Doctor glanced around and noticed a buffet cart. He tried to rush behind it, but was yanked from behind and went skidding along the floor. He looked up and saw the bruiser, who had snarled at Rose, advance towards him.

Holding up his hands, the Doctor tried to reason with the man. “Now look here, I was acting in good faith. It was you lot who made this personal when you poisoned me.” He let out a small cry as the large man pulled him up by his shirt and raised his fist.

“Oh my god! What the hell is that?” the Doctor cried, pointing behind the man.

The thug whipped his head around, giving the Doctor a chance to knee him in the groin. Unfortunately, it only succeeded in loosening the man’s grip, but otherwise didn’t slow him down. The bullet however did.

“Brilliant!” the Doctor said sarcastically as he dove behind the buffet cart with Wu Han. “Let’s just shoot everyone, ‘cause that’s working out _really_ well.”

“I didn’t shoot Kao Kan. It was one of the Japanese. They wanted to create this chaos.”

The Doctor huffed. “Doesn’t seem to be working in their favour,” he said, noticing two Japanese men trying to race towards the doors.

Wu Han glanced over the top buffet cart. “No it –” A bullet caught him between the eyes and he collapsed on top of the Doctor.

“Wu, Wu?” He pushed him off and felt his breath catch as Wu limply fell to the ground. His hearts skipped and he felt slightly nauseous. He needed to find Rose.

As he glanced around, he saw the twitchy fellow who had checked the diamonds pull out a Tommy gun. “Oh crumbs!”

Knowing the buffet cart wasn’t going to hold up under that kind of gunfire, he quickly searched for a new spot. The gong rumbled as someone bumped into it and then ran off.

“Perfect. A great big shield.” He chanced a glance at the machine-gun-wielding-maniac and accidentally caught his eye. “Bugger!”

Rushing towards the gong, he managed to drive behind it just as a barrage of bullets hammered against the metal. The gong began to sway under the assault and it gave the Doctor an idea. He just hoped Rose was in his path.

~*~*~

Rose was close to throwing a temper tantrum. Every time she got near the little blue vial someone would kick it away.  One person had picked it up and she ended up in a brief scuffle with them only to lose the damn thing again. Finally, though, she appeared to have a clear path.

But just as she was about to grab the antidote, two strong arms wrapped around her. “The book?” asked a man with a heavy German accent.

Rose wiggled. “You ever see Miss Congeniality?” she asked. His arms tightened around her. “Didn’t think so.” She smiled as she proceeded to teach her assailant how to SING. “Solar plexus, instep,” she chanted as she first jabbed her elbow and then ground the heel of her shoe into her assailant. “Nose, groin!” Twisting her body, she smashed her elbow upwards into his face causing his head to snap back, and then finished him off by whacking him hard with her fist. The German fell to the ground clutching himself.    

Free, she quickly dove for the vial and grinned when she finally had it in hand. Unfortunately, she didn’t have long to celebrate her victory. Hearing the rumbling ringing of the gong, she turned and she saw the mammoth bell bearing down on her, the Doctor racing beside it as bullets chased after him.

“Run!” he yelled, grabbing her hand and pulling her along with him.

“Doctor?” she said worriedly when she saw the window a head of them.

“Trust me.”

The gong broke the glass of the window and began to wobble now that it had lost its momentum. Rose and the Doctor quickly scrambled through the hole. They raced down the shingles of the roof, Rose let out a small cry as she nearly slipped, and then they both leapt over the edge, bouncing and rolling off a canopy, and then through the roof of their car, landing with an “oomph”.

“You two sure know how to make an entrance,” Mickey said as he started up the engine.

“Hurry up, Mickey!” the Doctor snapped, looking through the review window and seeing Lao Che dash into a black Duesenberg.

Rose touched his shoulder and handed him the antidote.

The Doctor grabbed it and quickly swallowed it down. But just as he pulled the vial away from his lips, it shattered in his hand.

“Down!” the Doctor shouted, pulling Rose to the floor of the car.

“Are they shooting bullets at us?” Mickey asked stunned as he ducked as low as he dared while still keeping an eye on the road.

“No, Mickey, they’re marshmallows. Yes, they’re bullets,” the Doctor snapped, wrapping his arms tight around Rose. “Now drive!”

“Where? We can’t bring them to the airport with us!”

“Remember our little detour route?”

Mickey yanked the wheel hard, avoiding a pulled-rickshaw. “Are you sure that will work? I mean you see it in the movies, but –”

“Just do it!” the Doctor ordered.

“Here goes nothing,” he said, taking a sharp turn and then repeating the action four more times before suddenly reversing into a dark alley and switching off the car’s lights.

Lao Che’s car drove past, wheels screeching as they took another sharp corner.

The Doctor tapped Mickey on the shoulder. “Hurry! They’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Mickey said, quickly pulling out and speeding down the narrow streets until they finally reached the airport.

The Doctor hugged Rose a little closer to him, inhaling her orange blossom scent. He could feel the effects of the poison wearing off and exhaustion slowly taking hold. It was a good thing their flight would be at least seven hours; he could use a nap.

Mickey pulled to a sudden stop and popped open the boot of the car before climbing out.

The Doctor and Rose broke apart as they opened the door and stepped out onto the tarmac of the airport.  

A heavyset man with a large nose and a bushy mustache hurried towards them. “You the Doctor?” he asked, panting for breath.

“Yes,” he said, taking a bag from Mickey. He wasn’t about to leave his fedora behind. “And you are?”

“James Weber. I was told to get you passage on a plane.” He looked at the Doctor with a bashful smile. “‘Fraid there’s only one going at the moment. You’ll have to share it with some poultry. ”

“Anything to get out of here.”

“This way, then,” he said, leading them to a small two engine cargo plane.

The propellers were already spinning as the trio quickly clambered inside through the side door.

The Duesenberg came careening to a stop and Lao and his men flung open the doors and hurried towards the plane.

The Doctor couldn’t resist taunting the mobster. “Nice try, Lao Che,” he said with a laugh as he shut the door.

Lao turned to look at the pilots, his lips turning up into a cruel twisted smile. He waved at them. “Sorry, Doctor Jones,” he muttered to himself as watched his plane take off into the air. “But I always win.”   

        


End file.
